


keep the wolves from the door

by rainshowers



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:24:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainshowers/pseuds/rainshowers
Summary: They were meant to destroy each other,damn it, not drink some fancy wine and stare at each other for heaven knows how long.





	keep the wolves from the door

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something for [@wholeanddeadly](https://www.twitter.com/wholeanddeadly)’s [#vampirehannibalfest](https://gleamingandwholeanddeadly.tumblr.com/post/178449694227/gleamingandwholeanddeadly-ive-decided-to-run-a). :)
> 
> i’m looking for more hannibal [mutuals](https://www.twitter.com/lecterious)! ♡

A century can pass away in a blink of an eye.

Humans had since evolved into thinking that they were created and put forth to be nothing more than expendables, urging them to make the most of what little time they had breathing above the earth. Some creatures would beg to differ to that notion: that, in truth, one might even be surprised at how little one can do in a hundred years.

Coming from a long line of Eastern European noblemen, he lived in a lavish life full of luxury since the day he was born and, as their family had always been known for being gracious hosts, he inherited his ancestors’ love for holding luncheons, balls, and dinner parties every insignificant event they saw fit to hold one. His late uncle, for instance, held one to honor his deceased dog. He was not that thoughtless about wasting money, however, and so he made sure to only celebrate after every good hunt. After all, he was not some commoner with no manners who was raised to let a perfectly good meat go to waste.

So, yes, a century can pass away in a blink of an eye... especially if it was filled with bloodbath and thousands of discarded bones piling up from one country to another.

“Will?”

Will’s eyes flew open as he jerked from his seat, startled at how low the man’s voice was. He didn’t know how much time had passed while he was locked inside his mind and he didn’t want to know how long the man had been calling out his name. Will’s eyes wandered off to connect with the man’s, expecting to see soft but piercing dark-amber eyes sizing him up cautiously as they always did, but instead he was greeted with an otherworldly look. He could clearly see that the whites of the man’s eyes were a little red, the veins seemingly more visible even in the dimness of the hall, and that he smelled faintly of spring, cinnamon, and a hint of rusted metal.

Will breathed in and forced himself to smile, signaling his brain to let his entire body calm down. “Dr. Lecter.”

“Please, Will,” Hannibal started, smoothing a hand on his neat red plaid suit and stepping aside to make way for Will to pass through, “I have already told you to address me by my given name when we are alone. We are still friends, are we not?”

 _I’ve never even considered you as one,_ Will wanted to snap and scream at him, tapping his right thigh with his middle finger three times to keep his pulse from quickening. He strategically ducked his head to appear as though he was embarrassed by his mistake. “Sorry, force of habit.”

Will glanced to take note of Hannibal’s reaction, assessing whether he should be more careful with his next move or not, but only saw the corners of the other man’s eyes twitch ever so slightly before giving him a soft smile. A familiar warmth settled onto Will’s stomach and spread up to his chest. They had been playing this psychological cat and mouse game for almost a year now and it was starting to make him question his own motives for staying close— _too close_ —to Hannibal.

They sat opposite to one another as they always had, regarding each other silently as they let the clock tick for a few moments before either one opened his mouth. Hannibal reached out and poured him some white wine from some country he had never paid enough attention to and raised his glass at him. Will returned the gesture.

The more the silence stretched between them, the more laughable their situation looked like to him. They were meant to destroy each other, _damn it_ , not drink some fancy wine he couldn’t afford and stare at each other for heaven knows how long. Hannibal waited patiently as he tapped on his knee with both his forefinger and middle finger, alternating between the two to create a rhythm. “What seems to be troubling you today, Will?”

Will flicked his gaze back into Hannibal’s eyes. They seemed darker, more predatory, but the whites of his eyes no longer appeared red. In some sick twisted corner of his mind, he was thrilled by it. He felt his pulse sped up, but he did nothing to revert it back to normal. Will kept his face neutral. “Not what. _Who_.”

There was a hint of amusement on Hannibal’s otherwise blank expression, a small quirk of his lips at the side that would not have been obvious if Will didn’t catch the infinitesimal movement of the man’s facial muscles. Will braced himself, wary of any sudden movements Hannibal would make. He knew what was coming.

Their dance was already way past its deadline.

“I am quite sure that whoever they are can also be categorized under a specific ‘what’. We are, after all, boxed and stored within the walls of our minds.” Hannibal said, his face never betraying what his true emotions were as he delivered his piece. His ‘mind walls’, amongst other nuances, were what made it difficult for Will to dig through him. And those walls alone made Hannibal the most dangerous of his kind. A few ticks of the clock’s hands passed and, when he was met without an answer, Hannibal pressed. “Would you be so kind to tell me who it is?”

Will locked eyes with Hannibal once more, they were now almost as dark as blood basking under the moonlight; two orbs that circled around like whirlpools, ready to suck him in at any given moment. “You grew up in Lithuania, Hannibal. Have you ever heard of the tale of Captain Pokrovsky?”

“I believe I have,” Hannibal said, this time his eyes radiated head as if they were being lit with sparkles of fire. “If the stories from my childhood were to be believed, it was said that he was the first one to ever give an account about a Lithuanian vampire.”

“Allegedly,” Will remarked almost too quickly, feeling giddy with delight even though the man in front of him would most likely kill him in a snap.

Hannibal tilted his head to the side, almost looking as if he was feigning confusion like the true master of deceit that he was. It almost made Will want to cry of laughter. “I believe I don’t follow, Will. Do you mean that you are troubled by Captain Pokrovsky?”

“No,” he answered simply, his eyes stilled on the man’s features, almost marveling at how one could be so exquisite yet deadly. “I’m more troubled by the Lithuanian vampire in Captain Pokrovsky’s story.”

Hannibal’s entire demeanor suddenly changed and his eyes now seemed to glow like wildfire. Will couldn’t put his finger on what he was thinking, but an oddly intimate chill crept down his spine. It was the very same one he felt when he first laid eyes on Hannibal.

“Tell me more about this...” the man opposite from him said with a pause, watching the veins on his neck thrum as if he was scouting a prey from afar, “... _vampire_ of yours, Will.”

Will just sat there for half a minute, contemplating between draining the rest of his glass’ content or telling Hannibal that their moment was long overdue. It felt silly to even think about at this point so he opted for the second option.

“He’s been plaguing my mind for months now. I can always feel him with me even when I’m alone within the confines of my home. I can even feel him watching me wherever I go.” Will made sure he retained eye-contact for the next words that would come out of his mouth. “He’s like my shadow except I can see the beautiful pair of horns sticking out of his skull.”

“And in what way does this vampire trouble you besides making you uncomfortable?”

Unsurprisingly, he was still playing therapist, but there was a glint of mischief and understanding in Hannibal’s seemingly fiery eyes that didn’t go unnoticed by Will. He decided to deal his cards on the table. “He reminds me of you, Hannibal.”

“ _Reminds_?” Hannibal asked with a raised brow and a visible smile, daring him to go on. Will bit into it, bracing himself for the storm to come.

“Possibly even more than that.”

He expected the other to move, to struck him then and there on his seat while holding a wine glass on one hand. What he didn’t expect, however, was for Hannibal to look down, an act of lowering his defenses, and chuckle. It was a low rumbling sound that was a mixture of both geniune happiness and pain. “You spent months with me, Will. I have been wondering when the invitation was coming.”

Will replayed the words in his mind, almost forgetting how specific Hannibal was with his manners. He smiled at him with teeth, he wouldn’t want to be rude in front of the devil. “Shall we dance?”

“I must first confess, however, that I have grown fond of you over the past months that we have been together,” Hannibal responded softly with a sigh. “Sometimes I wish you weren’t a Graham.”

Now it was Will’s turn to raise his eyebrows. It was a confession no matter how vague it was and, if he knew one basic thing about the creatures of the night, it was that they seldom let themselves be open to humans... especially to humans like Will Graham. He watched Hannibal carefully once again, taking in and making a mental note of even the slightest hitch of breath that would come out of the other. “Would it have been easier if I wasn’t?”

“Yes,” Hannibal answered frankly, still smiling openly at Will without any hint of mockery in his tone, “but I suppose anyone who charms me the way you do would have been harder for me to kill.”

He stopped himself short from gaping at the man before him. Will was entirely sure that his heart skipped a beat and his pulse quickened for reasons none other than what Hannibal had just said to him. The man was manipulating him, he thought, gauging him on with sweet words that meant absolutely nothing to a soulless creature.

“Count Lecter,” Will said coyly without wasting any more time to stare at the man. Two can play this game and both can leave unscathed. “You’ve gone soft.”

Hannibal chuckled once more, still sitting prettily as he held Will’s gaze. “Then perhaps we have both thrown each other off-course.”

He let the clock tick three times before he lunged.

 

⦻ ⦻ ⦻

 

Will was both blessed and cursed with his gift.

He hailed from a long, uninterrupted line of Grahams, one of the first few European families that were trained to become _stakers_... the hunters of vampires from way back during the twelfth century. The legend went on that the original Grahams, the children of William of Graham of Scotland, had gifts similar to those of the creatures of night to aid them during their hunt.

The only catch was that the gifts would only manifest onto their descendants if their descendants were worthy of receiving them.

As a child, his father would often tell him how different he was. _How extraordinary._ He would make a great hunter, his father had said, but all Will had ever centered his attention on was fishing and making miniature boats. By the time he was a teenager, the gifts and dreams started to devour him one by one, making their presence known not only to his mind but also to the rest of his body. Will became acutely aware of everything, his senses seemed more heightened than normal, and he could suddenly assume everyone’s perspectives without even bothering to focus hard enough.

It was a gift, his father had told him. It was his gift to cherish and develop and use to its full potential. His gift made him feel worthy of recognition and gave his life a purpose. He was gifted, in every way, to be physically capable of killing a killer. He was thrilled, to say the least. Unfortunately, like all great power, his gift also put a tremendous amount of burden for him to bear.

Now, after eight hundred years of his family’s existence, he was the last of his line and he had one final vampire to kill before he retired.

Hannibal expertly maneuvered himself to dodge Will’s blows, body swaying gracefully like the waves of the Atlantic flirting with the waves of the Pacific, and reached out an arm that almost caught Will by the collar. Will grabbed onto it and twisted it, spinning Hannibal to pin him down onto the floor. He poised his right hand to punch him, but Hannibal was quickly back on his feet, letting Will’s fist connect to the floor.

The vampire came at him with incredible speed, almost knocking out the air in his lungs as he was pushed back to one of the pillars in Hannibal’s office. Will looked into Hannibal’s eyes and saw that they still had the fire in them, an odd thing for a vampire who was on a life-or-death fight. Most of the vampires that Will had hunted in the past usually displayed eyes that were completely black and blown out.

Will grabbed the lapels of Hannibal’s coat and threw him across the room without a second thought, his body knocking off one of the massive bookshelves that then toppled on him. Hannibal groaned, pushing the bookshelf off of him and bared his fangs. Will knew that he was the one prolonging the dance, he could’ve ripped off Hannibal’s head when he was holding one Hannibal’s arm, but he felt a sudden pull not to.

Will wanted nothing more than to kill the vampire with his bare hands, but it seemed as if his entire being was against the idea.

Hannibal was on his feet again, his hair covered an eye but he didn’t seem to care as he strode towards him. Will stood his ground, letting the man come to him at his own pace. It was a dance, after all, and a dance required a great deal of patience from both ends. He watched the way Hannibal walked, where he was looking at, how he positioned his arms, and ran through his head any possible way of how the vampire would attack him from his stance.

Will saw nothing.

As the distance between them shortened, he readied himself to rush into Hannibal again, but the vampire stopped and dropped to his knees. They both stopped the dance. Hannibal hung his head low and he breathed harshly through his mouth. Will’s eyes narrowed at the vampire’s little display.

“What are you doing?” He asked before he could stop himself. It was a stupid decision for the vampire to let down his defenses like that, he wanted to say, and Will could easily tear his head off from the rest of his body right now—if only Will could stop being frozen in place as Hannibal knelt before him.

“Do it.”

It was said in a whisper, just audible enough for Will to hear. _He’s manipulating you,_ he told himself. Will stepped forward, still vigilant and looking out for any sort of movement from the other. “I’m not playing your games, Hannibal. Get up.”

“You need to fulfill your duty, Will.” Hannibal looked up at him and Will saw the fires in his eyes had already died down. Hannibal wasn’t threatened by him anymore. The vampire didn’t even succumb to his natural killing state in the first place. Hannibal gave him a weak smile. “I am submitting myself to you wholeheartedly.”

Somewhere, between the genuineness of Hannibal’s words and Will’s adrenaline-induced brain, there was a crossroad that led to nowhere. A creature of the night submitting himself to a _staker_ was pointless and nonsense. He could list all the reasons in the world why Hannibal was offering himself to him, but none of them sounded real even though Will couldn’t shake off the intensity of Hannibal’s words. They were enchanting him, wrapping him in a cocoon of assurance.

Will saw a flicker of emotions pass through Hannibal’s face and the same spine-chilling sensation washed over him once again. He suddenly understood why Hannibal was presenting himself to him _wholeheartedly_ , but the realization only made Will stagger backward.

“No.”

Hannibal didn’t move, only ran his eyes down Will’s figure then back up to his face before sighing in resignation. “I thought you would notice.”

The memories came back to him in tidal waves. Every little gesture that Hannibal showed him made sense. All the small, lingering touches, all the longing stares, all the times Hannibal watched over him like a hawk, and all the times the Hannibal smelled him. They were all because he couldn’t help himself. It was the only logical explanation for his approach to him. Will should’ve known. He should’ve had felt the bond reaching out to him.

“You’re lying,” Will hissed, remembering that the man already had a donor. “Alana—”

“Is not the one whose blood calls to me,” Hannibal finished for him. The smile on lips returned and Will felt a tug in his gut. “I am bound to you, Will, and I take full responsibility for that. In return, I am giving you the liberty to kill me.”

He stared in disbelief at Hannibal. Will couldn’t even digest the idea that this Hannibal—the same Hannibal who had been existing for already a century, who had killed thousands of people in his wake, who didn’t even think twice about killing the rude—was giving himself away for him. It was too bizarre for Will to try and process everything that happened. He wanted nothing more than to get away from his presence, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away. Instead, Will dared to ask, “How long have you known?”

The side of Hannibal’s eyes crinkled, his smile was warm and it had finally reached his eyes for the first time. It made Will’s stomach flutter.

“Since I met you.”

 

⦻ ⦻ ⦻

 

There was a missing piece to the puzzle that Will was supposed to solve.

“Bacchus and Ariadne,” Jimmy muttered under his breath as he tapped on his phone. Will, Zeller, Beverly, and Jack turned to him in unison. Jack was about to ask him what he meant, mouth slightly parting and poised in inquiry, when the man held up a hand and showed them a picture on his phone.

“I knew there was something familiar in the scene and then it occurred to me that I’ve already seen it in London a couple years back. This was the painting I saw.” Jimmy zoomed in on the photo of a Renaissance painting before nodding toward the bodies. “They were positioned in the same way as Bacchus and Ariadne. Even the fabrics are of the same colors.”

Beverly made an amused sound at the back of her throat and glanced at Will. “Too bad we’re not here with a member of the high society, aren’t we?”

He shrugged, turning to assess the state of the bodies once more. Hannibal had excused himself from consulting with the FBI for the time being, using his busy schedule as an alibi whenever Jack would ring him. It had been a month now since they last saw each other—since their dance was paused—and Will didn’t bother following up on the man. He didn’t want to know what will happen if he did.

Both the bodies were on the shallowest part of the river and would have been visible to any vehicle or person that would pass through the bridge. The woman was draped in white, blue, and red cloths while lying down on her stomach. Her cheek was submerged in water, but her eyes were open and seemingly in horror as she looked at the man to her right. The man, on the other hand, was lying on his back with only a red cloth across his loins.

Knowing Hannibal, he knew the bodies were drained of blood, too.

Will closed his eyes and let his gift take over his mind. His chest felt heavy as he carried the lifeless woman and positioned her on the water, arranging the cloths over her body as if he was dressing a statue: white under blue under red. Will felt as if he was painting them to make her look alive while the calm currents wash away the last remaining drops of her blood. He moved onto the man, covering his genitals with the red cloth and using one of the arms to hold it in place. The visions blurred and Will saw himself back on the bridge, standing in awe of his masterpiece.

He was sure that this was the last piece of his unsolved puzzle. Will could smell it in the air and taste it in his mouth. He just couldn’t interpret what was given before him. He tried remembering the tale of Ariadne, the Cretan princess who was abandoned on an island by her lover only to be found by the god of wine who fell in love with her at first sight.

The image of Hannibal allowing Will to kill him resurfaced in his mind and Will basically had to force himself to open his eyes. Everything clicked into place. His puzzle was finally solved, but it led to one conclusion.

Hannibal was in love with him.

“It’s a gift,” Will said loudly, allowing the team and a couple of officers to hear him clearly. He had exactly twenty-five seconds to come up with a logical and an unpretentious motive for the bodies on the river. Will had to use the last remaining straw in his fishbowl.

Jack, as expected, was the first one to take the bait. “For whom?”

_For me._

“For you, Jack.” Will turned to him, watching the horror pass through the man’s face. It was brief, but it was there. The horror then morphed into anger and regret. Will roamed his eyes back to the bodies, not bothering to establish eye-contact with Jack any moment longer, and began to spin his web of lies. “It seems like the Ripper has finally found a new object worthy of his attention and the scene below us was designed to be a parting gift. I doubt we will hear from him again in the foreseeable future.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jack exhaled. Will could almost hear the relief in his voice. “He’s going to vanish without a trail again, isn’t he?”

Will shrugged nonchalantly, staring at a group of men transferring and putting the bodies in bags. He decided to push further with his lies. “He’ll probably appear in another continent to continue his spree.”

“So what, he needs a resting time?” Zeller popped up from behind him.

“No,” Will said, this time answering with the truth as his whole body buzzed with a newfound sense of purpose, “he just wants us to leave him alone.”

 

⦻ ⦻ ⦻

 

Will knew that the moment Hannibal was to set foot into the house, the other would immediately smell his scent all over the place. Vampires and werewolves, after all, tend to be hyper-aware of their mates even with just a partial bond. For the past months prior to their dance, he kept track of Hannibal’s schedule and made a rough sketch of the easiest ways to enter the man’s house undetected. Will never thought he’d use any it for this. But he had no other choice, no other means of expressing what he wanted to tell Hannibal, except to show it to him in person.

And so Will snuck in, knowing that the vampire won’t be home for about half an hour more, and sat at the head of Hannibal’s dinner table to clear his head.

He had a hand inside one of his pockets, thumbing at the Swiss knife that he decided to bring the last minute. Knives weren’t the necessary tools to kill a vampire, but they could be handy for other reasons—reasons that Will didn’t know yet. He scanned the weight of the room, wanting to take peek of the emotions that Hannibal had felt as he relished the blood of his countless victims. It was cozy and, surprisingly, reminded Will of his childhood.

Will heard the first clicking of the doorknob and the pause that followed it. Then the footsteps came next. He flicked his eyes to the door of Hannibal’s dining room and the vampire greeted him with a fond expression, leaning onto the doorframe as he looked at Will while he had his coat neatly rolled around his forearm.

“Have you come to finish the deed, Will?”

“You can’t leave,” Will said in reply. He stayed seated, slightly drawing out the hand from his pocket. “I told Jack that the Ripper would go away. They’ll become suspicious of you if you leave.”

Hannibal’s features softened, his lips pulling up into a sad smile. Will hadn’t seen this much emotion from the man before and he wasn’t sure how he felt about it. “The only way I will be able to leave is if you come with me, but we both know that will never happen.”

“Hannibal—”

“The offer still stands, you know,” the vampire added quickly, not letting Will tell him what he had in mind. He was close to sounding as if he truly wanted Will to leave him alone. “I am the only one bound to you.”

Will suppressed a shudder at those last three words. Hannibal was bound to him and only him and even if Will canceled the bond part out, he knew that the other man was in love with him. Yet here he was, asking Will to relieve him of his life. Will didn’t know what to think. “Why do you want me to kill you?”

“Well, I’m not going to let the FBI do what you are destined to do now, am I? We were created to destroy one another, Will. Your ancestors called it the _order of things_ as I recall,” Hannibal answered with a sigh. He moved away from the doorframe and placed his coat on one of the chairs before reverting his attention back to Will. “I do not want your line to suffer in my stead.”

There it was again, the twinge in his heart. Will had felt it when Hannibal brought him breakfast for the first time, he had felt it when Hannibal killed Tobias Budge, and he had felt it when he discovered that Hannibal had invited Alana in his bed. It was always there whenever Hannibal did something and it was likely to still be there in the future.

A part of his brain told Will that he could easily finish the dance now, what with Hannibal’s lowered defenses and broken down walls, but he couldn’t bring himself to. Or, better yet, he didn’t want to. Hannibal made him feel more powerful than he had ever felt in his life. He gave Will something—no matter how beautiful yet fucked up his execution was—that no one else but his own family and dogs had been able to give him: _love._

“I can’t,” Will replied with a shake of his head. “I can’t do it.”

Hannibal tilted his head to the side, brows furrowing in confusion. “And why is that?”

The weight of the metal in his pocket weighed heavier than before and he understood then that he needed to act fast. Will took out the Swiss knife and held the edge of one of the blades to make a small cut on his palm, enough to let his blood add flavor to the atmosphere of the room.

“Will, no.” Hannibal moved in lightning speed, wrenching away the knife from Will, no doubt trying to stop him, but only ended up widening the laceration. “What in the world did you think you were doing?”

Will watched in fascination as Hannibal turned. The veins around Hannibal’s eyes become more prominent, red started filling his sclera and his pupils became dilated, turning his dark-amber eyes into black. Will swallowed. “I’m offering you my blood.”

“Are you aware of the repercussion of what you are offering to me?”

Will followed Hannibal’s gaze on his wound, his hand throbbing as blood continued to pool on his palm. The fact that the man was still able to talk to him normally while Will bled out was, in itself, a miracle. Will looked up at him. “An unbreakable bond will form between us.”

“Yes, _that_ , and you don’t want to bind yourself to me forever, Will.” Hannibal’s gaze shifted to search Will’s eyes. Amidst all the cloudiness and hunger that the vampire was feeling, there was hope in Hannibal’s tone. It was subtle, but Will caught it. “I do.”

“There will be no going back once I have tasted your blood.” Hannibal drew in a sharp breath, trying to hold onto the control that he had over himself. “You have a minute to leave. I can’t control myself any longer.”

“You’re the only one I have left, Hannibal. I won’t be able to forgive myself if I lose you, too,” Will said with conviction.

Hannibal carefully lifted Will’s arm and placed his palm close to his mouth, breathing in the scent of Will’s blood. It was exhilarating. The vampire glanced back at his face. “Tell me again that you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

The flash of sharp fangs and the look of bliss on Hannibal’s face were the last images that Will saw before he received the bite.

 

⦻ ⦻ ⦻

 

Hannibal gave him a bar of chocolate, retrieved a first aid kit from his room, and sat on the chair to Will’s right. He gently pressed a soft kiss on the back of Will’s hand and smiled warmly before proceeding to bandage his wound. It was too sweet. Will felt slightly lightheaded from the loss of blood, but Hannibal’s touch made him feel more alive than ever.

He didn’t pull his hand away from Hannibal, just turning it over to intertwine his fingers with the vampire’s. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you that I thought you have already noticed,” Hannibal said with his smile still plastered on his face as he rubbed a thumb on Will’s hand. “But perhaps I am also too scared of what your reaction might be. I was too afraid to think of the possibility of losing you as I did with...”

Hannibal trailed off, wincing at the memory that flooded his brain. Will felt his emotion course through their bond. It stung. “What happened to your previous mate?”

“Witch hunt,” Hannibal answered.

A stab of regret and guilt thrust into Will. He didn’t know if it was his or Hannibal’s. “I’m sorry to hear.”

The vampire brushed off a strand of hair from his face and tucked it behind ear then gave him a reassuring smile. “Don’t be. It was a long time ago.”

Will reached out and ran his fingers on Hannibal’s cheek. The vampire— _his vampire_ —was more than beautiful. In all their time together, Will had never given Hannibal the right amount of appreciation except for the fact that he was some vile creature. Will knew better now. Hannibal let him see how magnificent of a being he was. That he, like all of his creations, was a masterpiece worthy to be displayed to everyone. He was worthy of celebration. He was worthy of feasts. He was worthy of the world and so much more.

Will couldn’t help but cup Hannibal’s face with both hands and stare straight into the man’s eyes. Before he knew it, he was leaning in and kissing Hannibal hard and full on the lips. Hannibal responded eagerly, a hand shooting up to Will’s nape and fingers tangling themselves on Will’s hair. He could feel the vampire’s smile and Will himself smiled into the kiss.

They broke away, both gasping for air and panting. Will placed his forehead on Hannibal’s. “I received your gift, you know.”

Hannibal pulled back a fraction, looking at him with an amused yet fond expression. “And what did you think of it?”

This time, it was Will who carded his fingers through Hannibal’s hair. Today, two predators hunting each other became one and tomorrow, as one, they will start their endless hunt together.

Their dance was complete.

Will briefly pressed another kiss on Hannibal’s lips and beamed at his mate. “It’s beautiful.”


End file.
